Heaven Never Waits For The Damned
by Violet Fire
Summary: Dianthelle has finally married Legolas and impressed Thranduil. But the evil Dreamspeaker Morwen can now walk free, and once again brings terror to Mirrkwood. Is Dianthelle still strong enough to overcome her own mother?


Heaven Never Waits  
  
Morwen throws herself against the stone wall of her prison again, shrieking in frustration and rage as she does so. Panting heavily she backs up, runs forward and against the wall again. She spits out a tooth and much blood. It gathers in her silky obsidian locks but she doesn't care. Her nose bleeds, and there is blood trailing from her mouth. Her entire face hurts, but she continues to run into the wall, again and again. Two thoughts spur her forward. Fernemire! She lets out a bone-chilling scream and runs into the wall. He is dead, but perhaps his soul can feel pain. She hates her ex-husband, as she hates- Dianthelle! Ah, her lovely daughter. She deserves some pain as well, now that she can no longer send her dreams. Yesterday, Morwen's cell warden Ainelen told her that she was coming here, to Mirkwood. She is to wed the prince in seven days. Perhaps she will visit her, Ainelen had suggested. Scarce chance. Morwen never gets visitors. Ainelen is kind to speak with her so often. Wait. Morwen stops in mid-run. Visitors? Why does she never get visitors? This is why she never gets visitors, because she is so violent to others and especially herself. Perhaps if she cooled her temper somewhat and somehow Dianthelle came to visit her. She could get out of this windowless stone room forever. It is far out enough to work. Morwen sits down and cleans herself up as best as she can, combing through her long sable locks carefully before removing her bloodstained white dress and changing into a clean black one. When she is sure she looks better she smoothes her skirt and sits down. "Ainelen?" She calls sweetly.  
  
Dianthelle sighs deeply and stretches out her legs as far as they will go. She tosses her hair back so it blows back in the wind and rests her head on Legolas's shoulder. "Are we near there yet?" She asks. They had been riding Arod in the direction of Mirkwood for three and a half hours now nonstop. Her legs are beginning to cramp. "Almost." He responds, disentangling his fingers from the horse's mane and reaching back to caress whatever skin he can reach. His hand brushes her cheek. Good aim, she thinks, kissing his fingers gently and tightening her grip around his waist. His hand lingers on her face a moment longer before he moves it back to Arod's mane. "My legs shall fall off. I have never ridden so long without rest." She tells him. He smiles. "Just be sure you do not collapse in front of my father." Dianthelle laughs. "I shall try." She says, and closes her eyes, still leaning upon his shoulder. Just as she is about to kiss him, the sky cracks open and great torrents of rain hail down upon the two. Dianthelle smiles and pulls her hood over her face-actually it is his but. "Can Arod ride on in so heavy rain?" She calls. He smiles confidently. "Can he? Arod loves the rain. Noro lim!" Arod bolts faster. Dianthelle tightens her grip in false fear. "And do you?" He nods. "Yes meltha, pay no heed to the fact that I am nearly soaked right through." He banters. She laughs and gives his hair a good tug, not pulling his head back as she can easily accomplish, as he is guiding the horse. "That was quite uncalled for milady." He says politely. Why not? He can always guide the steed with his thoughts. She pulls his hair harder, so his head does jerk back. She looks directly into his eyes, still having a gentle but firm hold on his hair. "You were the one that suggested I take your cloak, were you not?" He smiles though his scalp hurts immensely. "I admit to that, milady. Now that I have, would you be so kind as to release me?" She shakes her head and does so. He repositions himself and snickers a little out loud. "What is so funny?" She asks. "I cannot wait until we arrive at home. Father shall love you I'm sure, and Mother. But my hopes are focused upon the fact that I shall finally see you with your hair down and brushed-and see you in a dress. Though you need no such charms, it would be nice to see you in them." Dianthelle blushes. Oh. "You are intending to say that you find me attractive with tangled hair and soaked to the bone in blood?" He nods. "Yes Dianthelle. Nothing can mar you." She chooses not to comment on this. He stops the horse, and dismounts, carefully helping Dianthelle down. She smiles. He is such a gentleman. She gently brushes water off of his face. "I'm sorry I pulled your hair." He smiles. "You are forgiven. Shall we be going?" Dianthelle nods and takes his offered arm. He sends the tired steed to the stables and leads her to the House of Thranduil. By now the rain had most shaken off. A little water streams down the side of her face, but she doesn't bother to brush it off. They enter the hall. Standing in font of them is the parents of Legolas, Thranduil and Elsilia. There is another woman, with long flowing golden locks. She wears a simple white dress and a flower garland. Dianthelle bows low. "Stand up." Thranduil says kindly. She does so, slowly. "Princess Dianthelle of Fraldien." He addresses, smiling. She nods. "That is correct, milord." He takes her shoulders and looks into her eyes. It is like his blue gaze is penetrating her very soul. Finally he drops her shoulders and smiles broadly. "Welcome! Our home is your home tonight Dianthelle. Soon I shall be able to call you my daughter, no?" She nods and is taken by complete surprise as the queen Elsila hugs her. "Welcome, dear. Now you are my daughter. Rest well." Legolas laughs. "Mother, you are frightening my bride." He informs her. Dianthelle shakes her head. "No! The only thing here that frightens me is dresses and hairbrushes." The king and queen both laugh. "She is witty as she is beautiful." Thranduil says. Elwen steps forward and hugs her. "Welcome!" She says clearly, but then transfers a guarded thought. Pull his hair for me, no, sister to be? I cannot any longer Elwen winks as she returns to where she was standing. "Go now, Dianthelle and rest. Legolas, I trust you can lead her to her room." Elsila says. They bow and leave. "You made your parents out to be complete knaves." Dianthelle says. He shrugs. "They are." There is a silence and he smiles. I love you Says his unguarded thought. She kisses him on the cheek. I love you too She thinks back, and gently tugs his hair. That was from Lady Elwen. Why can't she pull your hair He shakes his head. For now Perduliniel, do not ask. Please She smiles and walks in the direction of her chamber. The room is exquisite, there is a queen-sized down bed with a comfortable- looking blanket and six pillows. It is built right into the wall with sprouts of ivy everywhere, it is very beautiful and harmonious with the forest. In the corner of the room is a large vanity mirror on a wooden stand, also there is a plush velvet armchair, a dressing shade, a walk-in closet and a fireplace. Incense burns on an elegant desk on the other side of the room. There is a huge window, with black velvet curtains. Dianthelle opens them to let the new sunlight into the room, for the clouds have begun to disperse. She can see the woods perfectly. The Princess of Mirkwood-to-be falls backwards onto the bed and inhales deeply. Even the pillow throws and blankets are lightly perfumed with a gentle, naturalistic aroma. In no way were her chambers in Fraldien as lavish as this. Dianthelle's chamber was small but very cozy, a stone room with a fireplace that always has a fire blazing, a canopy wooden bed, a bay window with velvet curtains like here, a desk, a walk-in closet and a mannequin to hold her armor and weapons. She never really liked 'royal' or exquisite rooms. Dianthelle might be a Princess, but not a spoiled brat in any way. But she had to admit that the room was very comfortable, beautifully intact with nature, much to her preference. Her violet eyes close halfway, lose focus and she is asleep.  
  
"Lady Princess Dianthelle? Wake up!" Someone yells. Groggily she blinks and opens her eyes, stretches and sits up. She was dreaming strange dreams of such she has never had before, perhaps the dreams of Elves or something else. She cannot remember, so simply shakes the sleep out of her eyes and straightens her hair. Standing at the side of her bed are two she-elves, both clad in purple frocks though one is darker than the other, and they are carrying several things of which Dianthelle has never seen. "Yes? What? Who are you?" she mumbles. "We apologize milady." Says the one wearing the dark purple dress and curtsies. "We are here to prepare you for the wedding. His Highness was rather disturbed that you didn't come to the hall for breakfast. He worries if you are ill. It is half-past eleven." "What?!" Dianthelle yells, sitting up. "We are here to prepare you for this evening Milady." The other one says. "Pre.pare?" Dianthelle asks timidly. "Yes. Here, put this on." She hands her a flowing white gown. Dianthelle walks behind the shade and strips out of her battle clothes. She stands now only in her chemise. She has some difficulty putting on the garment-it has been 20 years since she's worn a dress. She steps out and the one in the lavender dress claps her hands together. "Beautiful! A true transformation, do you not agree Aarinel?" Aarinel nods and walks over to Dianthelle. "Alas Taurwen, the train is too long and we must fashion the sleeves, fix her hair, cosmetics." Dianthelle makes a choking sound of fear. "Stand still now Lady Dianthelle. Yes, like that will do just fine." Dianthelle squeezes her eyes shut tight praying that when she opens them again she'll be lying in bed. It's all just a bad dream. Loud trumpets and cheering interrupt her thoughts. "What's going on?" She asks. "A friendly jesting competition m'lady." Taurwen responds cheerily, happily sewing extremely long white sleeves to her bare arm. "In honor of yours and Prince Legolas's marriage." Aarinel says just as blithely, contentedly trimming the long train of the gown. "When shall I participate?" Dianthelle asks, feeling slightly better. "Oh you aren't to participate m'lady. Orders from His Highness King Thranduil. You're to remain indoors all day and prepare for the ceremony." Taurwen replies, finishing her left sleeve. Bad dream. This is definitely a nightmare. Dianthelle pinches her other arm. "Lady Dianthelle!" Taurwen exclaims, pulling her arm back to its previous position. "Remain still and this shall be completed much more quickly!" Dianthelle groans, but they were right. Within a half-hour the dress is complete. However. "Her hair!" Aarinel exclaims, pulling up some tangled strands. "Oh this shall take hours! You'd best sit down lady Dianthelle!" Taurwen wails. She does, and almost immediately shrieks in pain. "Ow!' Yelled, Dianthelle, for Taurwen had pulled a rather large snarl. "I apologize m'lady, but in the state your hair is in I know naught what to say." She apologizes. Dianthelle cries out again as Aarinel attempts to pull a brush through her hair. Taurwen then does the same and they spend twenty minutes untangling a knot, and another forty on another knot, thirty-five on a small clump of mud holding her hair together. Eventually, and the term 'eventually' meaning three and a half hours of tired and strained fingers, replacing broken brushes, filling up bowls of water, and shrieks of pain, Dianthelle's hair is silky-smooth and lustrous. It cascades down her shoulders and down to the middle of her back in silky golden-flaxen waves. Dianthelle forgot the last time her hair looked this good. She actually likes how it looks, and voices her opinion. "Good." Taurwen says, flexing her sore fingers. Aarinel takes the two longest strands framing her face and brings them together at the back of her head. Nimbly she braids the strands, and fastens them together with a pretty brooch made from pure silver and diamond, with an attached delicate chain that wraps around Dianthelle's forehead, where a diamond-shaped diamond is set right between her eyes. From the brooch is another long chain of silver and diamond, cascading to the exact length of the rest of her hair, which Aarinel makes part of the braid. Around her neck Taurwen pins her wedding necklace, a beautiful piece of jewelry made from gold and diamond for the chain, and for the charm a beautifully detailed Rune of Thranduil, studded with shining emeralds. She does look beautiful, even as the two place the veil over her face, after of course painting her lips a light color to conceal a cut on her lower lip. "Stunning." Said Taurwen, gushing at Dianthelle's transformation. "Beautiful." Agreed Aarinel, gazing at her work, not believing that this is the same woman. And then they both burst into tears. Dianthelle narrows one eye. "What is it?" She asks, and Aarinel wipes her face. "O m'lady it is nothing! It's just that, well, we both see such a beautiful bride and we cannot help but think about Prince Legolas as a child." She weeps loudly and blows her nose on a handkerchief. This new statement immediately roused Dianthelle's interest, and she almost forgets about her great disappointment with the jesting tournament. "Really? What was he like as a child?" She asks. Taurwen looks up. "He was mischievous but he was so sweet!" She sobs. Dianthelle smiles a little bit. "Yes Taurwen, but there is no time for lament over what was." Aarinel says. Dianthelle drops her smile. She was vaguely hoping for a story but no. "Beautiful." Aarinel repeats, throwing some fresh roses into Dianthelle's hands. She catches them easily enough, but then nearly stumbles as the two nearly push her out the door. It is already time.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "Are you happy?" Dianthelle asks, settled quite comfortably on the couch, her silky hair down and her legs propped up on the back of the sofa. She stirs her wine thoughtfully with the tip of her long nail, closing her eyes as she thinks. "Yes, very. I could ask for no more." Legolas responds, sitting down next to her. "More wine?" He asks. She has been stirring a drop at the very bottom of the glass for about ten minutes now. "Why not? I should be becoming intoxicated no?" She laughs and he doesn't. "I meant it not that way, Dianthelle." He says, tenderly smoothing her hair back. She kisses him, quickly though and pulls away. "I apologize. All I wished was to loosen the tension, get you to relax." He shakes his head, laughs and falls backward so he lies on his back on the other side of the couch. Dianthelle sets down her glass. "I am tense now? There is just no winning with you my love." She moves on top of him, and gently kisses his forehead, smoothing back his own hair. "And that is bad?" She asks kissing him again, and as she does so she puts all of her weight on top of him. He wraps his arms tightly around her waist. "Go on." Dianthelle coaxes, guiding his hand up below her shirt. "It's alright, unless you are not ready." She tells him. He gently kneads the bare skin on her back. "If you are sure, then yes." They kiss, a little more passionately and he carries her into bed. Dianthelle quickly strips out of her clothes, running her fingers through his hair and still kissing his warm lips. This is the moment that she has been waiting for since almost the day she fell in love with him in Rohan. He kisses her neck, and moves down to kiss her shoulders and then the tops of her breasts. She moans as he begins, and gently nips his neck, lightly scraping his bare back with her fingernails. Their bodies move in perfect rhythm. It moves her so much tears form at the corners of her eyes, she's climaxed about six times now, and is going for seven. It comes and he does and he collapses on top of her. She caresses his silken blonde hair, closing her eyes on his forehead. He kisses her gently, on the nape of her neck. Amin mela lle He tells her with his mind, rolling onto his side and clasping her in his arms. Amin mela lle ala She thinks back, burrowing happily against his chest. Her eyes lose focus, and she is soon asleep. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Hundreds of miles away, Morwen's sapphire eyes snap into focus. She sits up slowly, spreading her arms and begins to chant. Almost immediately she shrieks in pain. Some kind of spell prevents her from Dreamspeaking. She doesn't care right now; all she wants to do is channel to her daughter. Blood drips from Morwen's eyes from immense concentration. Her hands shake but still she chants, sending Dianthelle a nightmare full of carnage, the things that drive one mad. She grits her teeth to stop herself from crying out through the pain of it all but Morwen does not stop-that is the extent of her determination.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Dianthelle rolls over again, her arm raised over her face as if to ward off a blow. She tosses and turns frequently, her flaxen hair almost soaked through with her sweat. Occasionally she mumbles a series of words that make no sense whatsoever. Legolas tries to see into her mind, but it is partially guarded so all he sees are a bunch of random images. There is a river, an elf with long black hair, bleeding at the head, blinding light, blood. What is disturbing her so? And then he sees it, an unguarded thought. Dianthelle sits next to a river, but the river is running red, a raven- haired elf is covered in gore and there are many slashes on Dianthelle's face. The image is gone almost as soon as he sees it, but he understands what is occurring. "Dianthelle!" He yells loudly, shaking her shoulders. She makes no response save a muffled scream. He shakes her shoulders harder and she sits up abruptly, shaking. As realization sets in that she is back she begins to cry, then scream. "She lives!" She shrieks, weakly covering her face with her hands. "She lives and she shall claim my life! She'll succeed this time!" She screams. He gently covers her mouth. "Sshh Dianthelle. It is over now. I am here. Calm yourself." She takes several sputtering breaths, then relaxes somewhat. "She'll attack me every time I close my eyes. Even you cannot protect me from my dreams beloved. I stand no chance. I shall die!" He tilts her face up. Breathe He says with his mind. "Not while there is breath in my body." She bows her head and lies back down; her heart hammering in her chest, tears swimming in and out of her eyes blur her vision. We shall speak to my father He says, stroking her hair. She nods weakly. He looks upon he with great despair and pity. She was right, there was no way he could protect her in her dreams. She was shaking, and now he placates her, holding her tightly against him, stroking her hair. She falls back into hesitant slumber but Legolas finds no sleep the rest of the night.  
  
The next day they ride back to Mirkwood. Thranduil is very happy to see them, but Dianthelle is not when she finds out why. "My son!" He says happily, "I was just going to send a messenger. Today we are going to council whether or not Lady Morwen should be freed." Dianthelle coughs. "What?! Freed?! Your Highness Father, my mother is a murderer! She sent me black dreams last night, she should be killed!" She nearly screams, hardly believing what was just said. "Calm yourself, Perduliniel." Thranduil says quietly. "How?! Forgive my behavior, but please let me be seated at such a council if it will be held. The king nods. "Very well. If you must you may but my son shall be at your side, to prevent such outbursts." He says. Dianthelle bows her head.  
  
The room is dimly lit. Dianthelle sits in a stone chair next to her spouse, wearing a silver and white dress. Her hair she put up and she insisted on carrying her sword at her belt. Her hands are shaking, clasped tightly together at her lap. Several others stare. Morwen is then brought in chains. She seems shorter than Dianthelle remembered her in person, less stately, her obsidian locks more tangled and her black dress torn. Her skin is deathly pale but her cobalt eyes are piercing pools of all that should be feared. She is still gaunt. She smiles crazily at Dianthelle. Dianthelle turns away, her heart quickening, forgetting to guard her thoughts of terror. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Legolas resting his hand on his long white knife. You attempt anything He thinks angrily towards Morwen, then you will have to go through my blade first Dreamspeaker. She is under my guard He says, his eyes ablaze with rage. Morwen smiles. Little boy She mocks. You underestimate the skill of a Dreamspeaker And the last though she heavily guards, only sending it to Legolas and Dianthelle: Soon you shall see the beauty of death twice, prince of Mirkwood Dianthelle stares in shock. This was the woman Legolas's father wants freed? "Two deaths indeed." Legolas mutters, unsheathing his blade and placing an arm protectively in front of Dianthelle, "my own and yours, Dreamspeaker." Dianthelle says nothing. "This council is to decide the fate of Morwen Aista, Dreamspeaker of Mirkwood. If she is to be freed then she shall live in the forest alone, out of harm. If she is not to be freed, she will die. The fate of the Dreamspeaker shall be decided now." Thranduil says, his eyes moving from Dianthelle to Legolas to Morwen. "First, Ainelen Wolfblade will speak, in favor of Morwen's freedom." He says, and an elf-maiden stands up. Her hair is long and golden blond, her eyes a light blue, sparkling with youth. She clears her throat. "She has done nothing to deserve fear. Morwen is innocent of everything. Yes she killed Fernemire Silith, but he was deserving of it. After all he was the king of spies." Dianthelle bows her head, her hands clenched tightly into fists. How dare she insult her father? And her voice, it sounded monotonous, and her mind, it was foggy, thoughtless and unguarded save the words she just spoke. Something was wrong. "How dare you!" Dianthelle suddenly shrieks, standing up in a fit of rage. "How dare you insult the late King Fernemire?! Yes he was the King of Spies, but he was a loyal patriot to Gondor, and to Rohan! He was generous! Little known, but he was the ally of the free people, friend of Elrond and the Lord Aragorn! Yes, our King would be unsettled by those words! Curse you! How dare you praise her for taking his life!" She screams. Legolas takes her hand. Dianthelle, please He begs, heavily guarding his thought. You will have the chance to speak. Please be silent for now She stands there, panting from wrath, clenching her fists for a moment before sitting again and bowing her head, hiding the tears flowing down her cheeks. She looks up hatefully. The other Elves whisper amongst themselves. Some look at Dianthelle and others look at Ainelen. The few that look at Morwen turn away from her icy glare quickly. "Are you finished, Dianthelle?" Thranduil asks a few moments later. Dianthelle nods, her face in her hands. "Next, would Morwen speak." The King says slowly. Morwen rises. She remains very still, dead even but her eyes, they remain alive like the only living parts of a completely immobile stone statue. There is silence for several moments as those sapphire jewels focus on each person in the room. Dianthelle noticed that each person now focused on Morwen with dazed expressions, all except for her and Legolas, who glares at her with hatred, his hand still resting on his knife. "Friends." Morwen says kindly, softly, seductively. "You all look at me. I have done no wrong. You see it, and I have, oh I have for twenty-four long years. Much time has passed. I now see and I am healed. Besides, what good would a leader of Spies and assassins be? Him and his people should be burned." Is she insane? Dianthelle thinks, but sees no one that agrees with her except for Legolas. This was treason, and people were speaking in approval. Approval! Approval of killing a man well loved? No. She says nothing but inside her mind there was so much hatred, so much rage, burning, far too strong to guard. She was shaking and there were tears coming down her face but she said nothing. Inside her mind she was screaming, it nearly broke Legolas's heart to see it but she said nothing. "I see no reason that this woman should remain imprisoned." Thranduil says. "Wait!" Legolas stands up. "Lady Dianthelle has not yet spoken." She smiles weakly at him and exchanges guarded thanks. Slowly she stands up, and makes her way towards the center of the room. You have my blade, Dianthelle. Fear not Legolas thinks as she passes him. Dianthelle stops in front of Morwen. She smiles in a very demented way. There, there is something to mention. "Can any of you," She begins, gesturing to Morwen, her voice faltering a little bit, "see that this woman is clearly not sane? Is it right to kill anyone, anything?" There are slight murmurs of agreement. An elf stands up. "An excellent perspective, Lady Dianthelle, but what of the Orcs? The spiders, the Uruk-hais?" He says, his voice very slow. Morwen had him well. Dianthelle shakes her head and holds up her hand. "But sir, we are not talking about orcs or spiders. We are speaking of a king, well loved amongst his people and his daughter, known by Aragorn, who grieved after his death! It is treason to kill a king! You all agree with her freely. It is like saying that it would be alright for a dwarf to slay His Highness Thranduil right here and now because he is an Elven king! Is that right?! You tell me, because it is the same as Morwen killing my father!" She yells. The murmurs grow louder. Morwen's eyes freeze on Dianthelle. She smiles. Dianthelle does not. You stand no chance The mother says to the daughter, and snaps two pale fingers. Everyone focuses on Thranduil. His words nearly stop Dianthelle's heart. "Due to the circumstances, I see no reason for Morwen to remain imprisoned. She may live, but in exile, in the borders of our home, deep in the woods." Morwen smiles broadly. Everyone cheers. Dianthelle closes her eyes. She couldn't bear Morwen's face, and felt she might swoon, so she leans against the stone wall. Legolas approaches her tentatively. She doesn't move nor open her eyes. "All of them are under her spell." She murmurs, near tears. "Every single one of them are, even your father my love. Do you not see it?" He nods in agreement. "Dreamspeakers are of evil." Dianthelle spits. "We shall not leave." He promises. "We shall remain here, and watch her, though I doubt everyone here but you. No matter what anyone says, even my father I believe you." Dianthelle looks up. That is treason She reminds him. .I care not. Now come, and get rest. You look quite ill   
  
It wasn't just a simple illness. For seven days, Dianthelle fell into a state of sub-consciousness. She'd be awake, but act as if she was asleep. She'd scream and curse for hours, saying that her face was being torn off. But there was nothing wrong with her. Sâlienne would come to visit her, trying to heal her mind but Dianthelle would throw off the herbs and scream, still asleep. She'd say terrible things, like her chest was being torn apart, her face was bleeding and other things that horrified anyone near enough to hear her. It got to the point that her sanity was questioned, and if isolation was needed. To this the prince said no quite firmly, and that if any of the sort were attempted, it would have to go through him first. She got somewhat better after another week. "Legolas." She said softly, when they were alone in her chamber. He became instantly attentive. "Thank Elbereth." He murmured, kissing her hands. "What? Do you need anything?" She shook her head and closed her eyes. Her head rested upon the pillow, her brow furrowed in immense concentration. "If Morwen sent a nightmare..." She said slowly, in a weak voice. "What would happen if you couldn't leave it?" Legolas closes his eyes, fighting the tears in his eyes. Dianthelle already was crying. "What would happen, if no one was there to wake you? Would you die? Or just go mad? What would happen?! Tell me, please, because I am afraid!" She yells, and breaks down into sobs. Legolas held her close, fighting tears. Not because of her words, but because of the fact that nothing he said would comfort her. As long as Morwen was free the both of them were in great danger. Finally he began to cry himself.  
  
50 years later...  
  
"Run, Akha!" Wilwarin screams, shoving her sister forward. Behind them the huge spider roars in utmost rage. Was it gaining on them? Wilwarin was afraid to look. She stumbled. Akha helped her to her to her feet, and pushed her ahead. All they did was listen to Sâlienne. They stayed within the lines that they were told to stay within. But the spider-fiend started chasing them in the woods. Horrified, the two elf-maidens ran off into the forest, and the thing chased them. The sun was setting, and they had no idea where they were. They lose all hope as a second spider leaps in front of them. Akha shrieks loudly. Wilwarin came to her senses first and grabbed her sister's arm, and bolted to the left. Another giant spider leaps in front of them, hissing. They sprint to the right, but another one falls from the trees. They are surrounded. Just as they are about to fall to the ground and surrender, the spider that had been chasing them falls dead. Akha stares at it confused. "There is an arrow in its throat!" Wilwarin says, and the other three spiders fall as soon as she speaks, with silver-shafted arrows in their necks. Akha saw the last arrow fly, and turns in the direction that it came from. There are faint hoofbeats in the distance, and within moments a horse and rider emerge from the trees across the clearing. The horse is dusty-gray and the rider is clad wholly in a soft light green color. The rider dismounts, and leads her steed across the clearing. Her hair is long and flaxen, and her violet eyes are soft and friendly. Slung over her back is a quiver packed with silver-shafted arrows and a silver bow. She smiles in the softest way at the two, and her beauty is great. Wilwarin is the first to speak. "Greetings. I am Wilwarin and this is my sister Akha. We were told to stay within the borders and we did-but then a spider chased us into the woods. Thank you so much for saving us. If not for you we'd be dead. How can we ever repay you?" As Wilwarin spoke, Akha studied her more closely. She was pretty and appeared fully-elven but was a bit muscular on her arms. She noticed the delicate golden lariat around her neck, with the porcelain jewels, delicately inlaid with green leaves. There were three of them on the chain, and the dangling charm was a sparkling emerald leaf. Was this...? "Excuse me." Akha interrupted, curtsying. "But are you Dianthelle, the Lady Perduliniel of Mirkwood?" Dianthelle laughs, the sound soft and sweet. "Yes. You are bright. I am grateful that I was able to save you two. Come, I shall take you back home." Wilwarin blushes and curtsies. "Forgive me m'lady but we aren't at home. We are visiting our friend's godmother." She murmured quickly, afraid of what Sâlienne would say once she found out about their little adventure. The Princess that saved them laughs again. "You are visiting with my dearest friend, Wilwarin, the godmother of my daughter Menel. A coincidence indeed! Come, come! I must take you back either way. Now mount Giliath, I think you've run far too much for today. You need food and rest." So the Princess led her horse and the sisters back home. She sang a little bit as she walked, sang songs that neither of them recognized. Soon they reached the castle, and Dianthelle helped them both down. "Go on home and rest." She said, smiling. "Namaarie. Visit with me tomorrow." The sisters bid the Princess farewell and walked the short distance to Sâlienne's home. Sighing, Dianthelle led Giliath to his stable. "Good horse." She tells him, stroking his nose. The beast nuzzled her arm affectionately. She smiled, handed him a square of honeycomb and left the stables. Slowly and with a heavy heart she walked through the palace and to the large part of the castle in which she and her husband lived. So many thoughts were going through her mind she couldn't make any sense out of any of it. Those were Morwen's spiders. They all bore her mark. "Mother? Are you all right?" Menel snapped Dianthelle quickly out of her thoughts. She smiles at her young daughter. "Yes dearest. I am fine." Menel crosses her arms. "Mother, you are injured. Father will be upset." Dianthelle glances down to where Menel was staring. A bloodstain was growing steadily upon the left side of her dress. The sleeve was torn and a spike was lodged in her shoulder. "Oh. I didn't realize. You didn't see it, all right Menel? I don't want to upset-"  
  
"Dianthelle?" Dianthelle curses under her breath. Legolas stands across the hall. "Are you alright?" Menel smiles matter-of-factly and walks away, her golden locks streaming behind her. "Praise the stars what happened to you!?" He asks, running over to her. He pulls the spike out of her arm and she winces slightly. "Many things. I'm tired." She admits, and walks slowly down the hall to the chamber the two shares. She collapses onto the bed and closes her eyes. "At least let me dress your wounds." Dianthelle nods slightly. He tears off the stained portion of her dress, and cleans the slash. "An impertinent stag?" He asks, noting the straight line that was the wound. "No." She said weakly, her voice soft and tear-filled. Hearing her tone, he quickly wraps the slash and strokes her hair out of her eyes, now so much longer than it used to be. "What?" He asks, though he feared that he knew the answer already. "She has begun again." She says simply, and then bursts into tears. "What happened?" He asks, stroking her hair. "Her fiends attacked two of Menel's friends. They bore her mark. I was able to slay them with silver but I saw her face. I am afraid to sleep." She chokes. He kisses her. "Sleep. I shall remain awake." Dianthelle smiles through her tears. "I love you." She says, changing out of her bloodied dress. "You sleep. How about if I protect you for once." He lies down next to her, folding her arms over her stomach. Dianthelle lies still, gazing at the ceiling, listening to the nightingales and the crickets. She wasn't fatigued any longer. "Sleep." She tells him again and strokes his hair back. She was a little late, for he already was sleeping. Their years together have clearly showed him how it is near impossible to bend her will once she decides something. She lies in silent bliss for some time, forgetting the terror of the day, hearing and seeing the night, but listening mostly to Legolas breathe, his heart beat so close to hers. She closed her eyes and when she opened them it was an hour later. No time in this world of rapture. There is silence, there are vague thoughts, but there is no time, and if there was time an eternity came and went. But then, in an epoch of heaven, in an era of no pain something vile breaks the blithe silence. Dianthelle stares in absolute disbelief and can't breathe in the moment that all is shattered. "Off! Away!" He screams, clawing at his face. He yells words indeterminable, but Dianthelle caught one that made her blood boil over. That one word was 'Morwen'. He sits up abruptly after she wakes him. For a moment she just holds him close, trembling. No longer will she live like this. Dianthelle jumps out of bed. Hastily she fastens her quiver of arrows at her back, clutching her bow tightly. "What are you doing?" Legolas asks but she ignores him. Taking a deep breath she bolts out to the stables and quickly mounts Giliath. "Noro lim." She mutters and hastily kicks the horse in the sides. The animal runs off into the woods, Dianthelle clutching its mane. "Dianthelle!" Legolas rides behind her. The princess shakes her head. "Go back." She whispers. "Please." She was the most determined she'd ever been, but he was still the faster rider. Quickly he caught up to her. "I'm sorry." He said, but pulled her off of Giliath and onto his horse. She fought but he was still stronger. "I will not allow you to do something as foolish as face Morwen. We both know that it is folly to face her-" "Children." Dianthelle looks up. Morwen stands near, her eyes bleeding onto her white dress. She's been Dreamspeaking. Over fifty years of peace she has only grown more wretched. She snaps her fingers, and both horses fall dead. "You will no longer poison this land." Dianthelle says firmly, and fit an arrow to the bowstring. Morwen simply laughed and snapped her fingers. It all happened at once. Dianthelle's chest seemed to explode with blood. She made not one cry of pain as she fell to the ground. Morwen laughed and the spell seemed to break. Legolas picked up Dianthelle's bow and arrow, and immediately fired while Morwen was still up for battle. The Dreamspeaker fell lifeless but for him it was not enough. He unsheathed his knife and cut her head from her shoulders, ripped out her heart. Now he just stands rigid, breathing heavily, gazing upon Dianthelle, how still she was on the ground. He felt his heart breaking. It was not possible. He swore to protect her from Morwen, but could not. He might as well have taken her life himself. He knelt, and wiped the blood from her chest. As he was about to lift her up, he stopped. Hesitantly he rests his hand upon her breast again. Had he lost his mind? Has Morwen finally won? Or was her heart really beating? He leans closer to her, listening intently. Yes. Her heart was beating. Slowly, faintly, but it was still beating. She was still alive. He cries he is so happy. She was injured greatly, and needed intensive medicine, but she was still alive. Cautiously he lifts her and begins the long walk back. As soon as he does she opens her eyes. "It didn't-" She begins, but a great light interrupts her words. It hovers over her chest for a moment, forming an all-too familiar symbol before it shrank into her body. She speaks no more, and is unconscious again. The blood begins to leak out of her eyes.  
  
"I told you before, Dianthelle. I will love you through anything. If you choose a path of darkness and evil, I will walk it with you. You have nothing to fear. Use it for good." Legolas tells her, stroking her hair. She closes her eyes, and fingers her pendant. Menel looks up from her place across the room. "You don't have reason to be afraid Mother. You have a mind, so use it. You will not become a fiend like she was. I'm sure of it." Dianthelle turns away. Of course she had a reason to fear. "I do not know. Perhaps I shall destroy my gift." She muses, her eyes closed. "For now I just do not know. Perhaps I will seek council from Lord Elrond with this matter. For now just go to sleep, Menel." She says, smiling at her daughter with joy and pride. "And I wish you pleasant dreams."  
  
To be continued... 


End file.
